The Sir David Martin Foundation run a program that teams young people with a mentor and then sends them bush for a couple of days to get to know each other and hopefully teach each other a few things. I have signed up to be a part of the program in 2017. I am between jobs at the moment so the timing could not be better.

The bush bit is run by Outward Bound, a terrific organisation that has decades of experience in the bush, just south of Canberra and reading the list of items I will be taking fills me with dread. But it’s not the snakes, spiders, trekking in the rain, river crossings, or abseiling down cliffs that has me scared the most. The thing that is scaring me the most is raising the money.

Apart from my commitment to be a mentor in this program I have to raise $5k. It costs each person $2.5k to do the event and I have to raise enough for me and the person I’m getting to know. Maybe you can help. There is a link below, every little bit counts.

https://discomfortzone2017.everydayhero.com/au/michael-beaumonts-going-on-trek-to-help-our-youth#/?_k=6vyydm

My bride is a remarkable woman, and she is busy preparing a speech she is about to give about being Bold for Change. Part of her presentation is a story about another remarkable woman in her family tree, Esther Abrahams. Though hardly a household name, First Fleeter, Esther was probably the most influential woman in the country.

In the 1828 census she was recorded as owning 2460 acres in Sydney which included 300 acres of Annandale, 750 acres around Georges River, 500 acres of Bankstown and 600 acres in Cabramatta. That’s quite a property portfolio Im sure you would agree.

Official documents of the First Fleet vary in opinion on her birthdate, she was either 15 or 20 when she fronted the Old Bailey on the charge of attempting to steal two cards of black lace, but all the records agree that she was pregnant. The records also tell of her transport to Australia on board HMS Penrhyn where she and her baby daughter caught the eye of the commanding officer Lt George Johnston. While in Cape Town requisitioning the ships for their final fight across the Great Southern Ocean, George purchased a goat for Esther (whom he referred to as Hetty, that’s the woman not the goat) so that she and her baby could have fresh milk on the journey.

The pair eventually married in 1814 but not before having 6 children. It appears that even back then there were couples in no rush to get married just because they were having children together. The official portrait of Esther is anything but flattering, but accounts describe her as a rare beauty. She managed the business of the family estate in George’s 4 year absence while he went back to England to explain his role in the Rum Rebellion. The business management was no small feat as Annandale alone had a slaughterhouse, a butcher, a bakery a smithy, stores, a vineyard and an orange orchard. The other properties, while perhaps not quite as well-developed were nonetheless big businesses in their own right.

International women’s day was just the other day, Esther was a fine example of a woman capable of anything.

I watched a fascinating show on SBS last night about racism and its roots in the brain. I learned more than I expected to really, because I do read a fair bit of the latest research. The program reminded me of the stark realities behind racism and the obvious frustrations that it causes.
Chief among my learnings was, it is pretty easy to demonize anyone for holding racist views and lock them away in a class called idiots, fools, ignorant, uneducated etc etc, but does that help?

Once we lock them away in that group, we deny them the opportunity to change their mind. While I realise that may of them may take the stance “dont try to persuade me with facts, my mind is made up” by not providing people with the opportunity to mix with people from other races and ethnicities, the education process will never happen.

On the flip side of that, supporting enclaves is counter productive to the education process too as it lessens the interaction possibilities and only further alienates people into their own small groups. Who would have guessed that the old 1960s process of finding out that the greek guy down the road selling your fish and chips is actually a good bloke and his kids that all go to the same school as your kids, are lovely, I mean, what are the odds right? The old integration method is a pretty good way of breaking down racism.

That is not to say it is the smoothest way, and it really needs to be part of a well-considered and well supported strategy of nation building.

I am still staggered when I hear the argument that white people didn’t invade this country. Clearly they did. The argument, “I was born here, if you weren’t, you don’t belong”, is pretty weird too as we had people of Chinese heritage in this country, going back to the early 1800’s so they could easily be 8th generation Australians. Having said that, your country of birth doesn’t really mean much does it? My bride was born in Malta, but that doesn’t make her Maltese, her Australian parents just happened to be passing through.

Australia was one of the last places on earth to support slavery in the way of Blackbirding, and then we had the outrageous White Australia Policy which was just juvenile thinking in a land like this. So we have long been a hotbed for racism often supported by legislation of one kind or another, so we should never be surprised when it raises its ugly head.

Uncomfortable as it may be for some people to accept, the only people with an unfettered line of ownership are the native Australians by virtue of about 40,000 years or so, but even then I guess you could argue they were migrants once too. The SBS program was a stark reminder to me, to stop labelling people with racist views and internally belittling them, and instead try to provide them with opportunities to learn. It was also a good reminder of the importance of scientists in this modern world. We need people to be doing good research to help us all move forward. Thanks SBS good work.

If your family is anything like mine used to be, every holiday involves some suitcase grief. You know what I mean, three hours before you are due at the airport, the suitcase just wont close, it is obviously overstuffed and overweight, you have the discussion and sometimes heated words around just how many changes of clothes you need and the expected or feared weather patterns. Sometimes it gets nasty because packing for a holiday and meeting deadlines can be a high stress event.

I have a solution.

We have used this simple trick for the last ten years of travel and it has saved us so much time, has eliminated all of the angst and made packing for holiday a breeze.

The rule we use is this. If you pack it and don’t wear it costs you money. In our house its a dollar, and I know that wont be enough to deter most people so you can up the ante a bit on the fine if that’s what it takes. We find however, that the dollar is more of a symbol. We hear things like “I will be darned if I’m giving you guys a dollar” and out of the suitcase comes that fifth pair of shoes, the third pair of long pants and perhaps that second hat.

My bride was the worst at this and is now a bloody hero packer. Once upon a time we would be looking around the room for the heaviest person to sit on the suitcase to get it closed, but no more. This last trip to Hawaii, was fine free. Ten days away and not a dollar spent in packing fines.
It goes without saying that if you travel as a family of six, that you have to pay everyone in the group a dollar for every piece of clothing not worn.

It works a charm.

I was speaking with a lovely fella the other day, he once worked with my father and is half way between my age and my dads. As you would expect I was asking a lot of questions about his past, his youth and his upbringing. His father left when he was just a few months old never to be seen or heard from again.

He spent a lot of his childhood with his maternal grandparents as you would expect and after moving around England several times, went on to join the Navy. He had such an interesting life and of course we will record a Life Log at some stage as soon as I can get to the country and spend some time sitting with him. Because this fella is smart he has all of this written down of course so that his children and their children can understand it. But I still want to get it recorded, which got me to thinking why.

A Microsoft word file is a perfectly adequate way of relaying information of a historical nature after all. But how much better would that all that information be in a chat, as a series of stories in his own voice. I reckon about one million times. In my mind’s eye I see his grandchildren or his great grand children, as thirty year olds, or however old you are when you first get interested in the family history, so perhaps even older than that. I see them either reading a word file on a computer screen or listening to their great grand father telling his story. His voice, his delivery, his accent, indeed all the little bits and pieces that you can never capture in a word file.

Not only that but in a Life Log we get into the stuff that most people would never write down. The aim of the Life Log recording is to capture you, to show people what makes you tick, what gets you excited and what makes you misty. I’m pretty sure most of that will not be in any word file. I will let you know how it goes.

Palliative care nurse-turned-author Bronnie Ware wrote a book about the regrets of the dying (titled the five regrets of the dying). She had worked in the palliative care area for many years and collected the tales her entire career. It appears that there are some common themes.

I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me
I wish I hadn’t worked so hard
I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings
I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends
I wish I had let myself be happier.

It is quite a modern idea to be happy. You may not know that, but it is. I like being happy so I read that list with great interest. How are you going with it? I speak with people who have definitely lived their lives along these lines too. What a shame to get to the end, or near it, and have regrets at all I reckon. Unless of course you always wanted to rob a bank or something similar of course.

But it’s one thing to think it, and its entirely another to put yourself in a position to make a tangible difference to your own life, because for most of us, it really isn’t our life at all is it? We share it, with family, with people who rely on us, with our neighbours, our children and our work-mates and probably even our club mates or something similar.

That having been said. Here is a news flash, we are all going to die. It’s not a pleasant thought for sure, but if you follow my thinking, that’s it, it’s all over red rover, you only get one crack at it. So I reckon you should give it a red-hot go. Try to have a few less regrets and try to leave the world or bits of it, better off for your time spent here.

Those people familiar with early history of white settlement in Australia will be familiar with the concept of King Plates. A metal (usually brass) crescent about the size of a slice of cantaloupe, that was presented to compliant Aboriginals by white settlers in a bid to raise that individual’s status. The plate was worn on a chain around their neck. It was seldom if ever presented as a pure gesture of good will, but rather as a way of upsetting the status quo in a ‘divide and conquer’ type of thing. It was almost always divisive and often quite destructive as history shows. King plates are now quite collectible, in a bizarre twist of fate.

Whenever I hear of children being labelled as dysfunctional for whatever reason, my mind immediately flicks back to these brass king plates. Often young people will live up, or down to any label thrust upon them. I think most of us have seen that. While it is absolutely undeniable that some or quite possibly most of us, need more time to do some things or get to some levels, and therefore need those around us to be more patient. For some of us that is all that is required. The love and patience of people that surround us can often be all that is required. The notional ‘king plate’ does not help.

Quality research that has been replicated in Canada, Taiwan, USA and in Australia has shown that there is a clear correlation to ADHD diagnoses and your relative age in a classroom. The younger you are, the more likely you will be to be diagnosed with ADHD. That is pretty scary I reckon. Additionally we know that the less physical activity that children receive, (but boys in particular) the less likely they are to learn appropriately.

I am not blaming teachers by the way. They can only do what they can do within a flawed system. But those are two scary pieces of information right? So if you know someone tainted or labeled with ADHD or something similar, I’m going to suggest that you figuratively remove the king plate from around their neck and just give them a little more love and use your patience. Most of the time that is all that is needed to make a real difference.

I don’t want to sound too woo-woo about this but I have seen it in action and have experienced it myself. I was a late bloomer that I’m sure would have been labeled as something or other, but for the generation I was born into. I have also worked with people who have lived within the confines of their ‘label’ for years but with a little patience and a little love, grow immeasurably to the point of having no distinguishable learning difficulty. Sure they are still quirky, but aren’t we all? Gee I hope so. Wouldn’t it be dreadful to be described as “oh I don’t know, just like everybody else.”

As the holiday season comes to a close, it has come to that time when family and friends vanish into the never-never back to their homes, their lives and their own worlds and we have to say goodbye. I don’t like it. I get to see my beautiful eldest son everyday of the year which is wonderful but my little guy I see for a few short weeks each year as he treks out from Berlin.

The thought of not seeing him for another year is very sad making. So I will tell you how I deal with it. Pretty much like every other male out there, I put it away. I just tuck it away into a corner of my head that is chock full of stuff I don’t want to think about. Now in my late fifties I have become reasonably adept at tucking things away. Otherwise it makes me too sad for too long.

To put that into perspective neatly, a young friend of mine has just said goodbye to his father for the last time. A long fight has finally come to an end for his father. Seeing the pics on Facebook made me cry. I wouldn’t say I knew the father well, but I had met him a few times and we were on nodding terms.

So as I prepare to say goodbye to my son as he flies back to Berlin I have to remind myself I am really only saying ‘see you soon’. Even if that takes a year.

Anyone who reads this blog will know that the Life Log Project is all about recording people’s stories. I have struck an interesting trend that I think is worth sharing.

The vast majority of people think they have not led a life worthy of sharing. I’m not sure if its peculiarly Australian akin to the tall poppy syndrome or if it is multi cultural. But I reckon more than 90% of people I talk with think its great that someone is recording those stories, but not for them. That includes pilots, admirals, generals, single mums, architects and builders. So it’s not like they haven’t achieved anything, it’s the unusual perception that their story would not be interesting to their grandchildren or great great grandchildren.

I like to think of it like this. If you could sit and listen to an interview with your great great aunt about her life and loves and regrets and family and they way she lived, wouldn’t that just be fascinating? Better than any old history book or graphic of your family tree. Go back another two generations and that now becomes even more amazing.

You don’t have to be Mother Teresa or Amelia Earhart to have led a life worthy of recording. When it’s all said and done, it’s not about you anyway! It’s about future generations. Please take the time to record your story for the benefit of future generations.

Please pass this story on to someone who should have their story recorded. (and isn’t that everybody?)

Every now and again, life throws you a curve ball, or to use a more Australian phrase, a ‘bouncer’. I can’t explain why, or even if there is a why! I would say the same about dealing with this situation as I would about any other life incident. It’s not what happens, it’s what happens next.

You are going to meet people who you judge incorrectly, you are going to be blindsided by people unworthy of your trust, you are going to hear things said about you that are plainly and simply untrue. It happens.

Sometimes you will be in a position to take stock and change direction. Sometimes you may be lucky enough to be able to leave the surroundings, the environment, the workplace or the group. Sometimes however you will be forced to find a way through. How you do that is what makes you special or what makes you resilient or provides you with the opportunity to learn.

For the most part, it is my experience that ‘what happens next’ sets the tone for you in the immediate future, post incident. It determines if you get rocked emotionally or handle yourself like a Zen master. The Zen master bit, I’m not so good at, but most times I can pull myself together enough to get through the emotional stuff, to then start to plan, what happens next, using my brain not my heart.

I’m not saying its easy, I’m not even saying it is always possible. But it is worth giving it a go. What happens next is up to you, no-one else.